The World's Journal of Wanderlust

January 06, 2007

"Hoboes are migratory workers who helped satisfy America's labor needs from the Civil War to the Great Depression; they lived in hobo camps, also known as "jungles". They were beside rivers and near railroad yards where hoboes slept, cooked, ate and socialized with one another while they were between jobs. Hoboes are not homeless. They work to travel and travel to work; their chief mode of transportation has always been freight train riding; they "ride the rails" from town to town in search of short term work to support their lifestyle and provide life’s necessities until they decide to move on. Hoboes are hardworking people; they insist on working for what they receive from others. Hoboes are honest people who are always willing to help others in need and share whatever they have with others.

At one time there were hundreds of thousands of individuals living this unique lifestyle. Today there are probably fewer than 500 true hoboes left in the United States; most are retired from the rails and now prefer to travel to hobo gatherings by more traditional modes of transportation like motor homes and cars, known as "rubber tramping". Some of the older hoboes do still ride freight trains; there are also a limited number of younger hoboes who have joined the hobo ranks since the depression, those few will keep the hobo traditions alive along with a growing number of "friends of the hoboes" who also are trying to preserve the history of the hobo culture.

One town in America has dedicated itself to preserving the hobo culture and history, Britt Iowa; Every August this small farming community is host to a week long "National Hobo Convention", attracting retired and active hoboes from all over the country. The hoboes that attend in any given year come to socialize with their hobo brothers, to share their music, and share tales of their hobo adventures with the thousands of tourists and local visitors that also attend. Also in Britt Iowa is a permanent Hobo Museum supported by the "Hobo Foundation", local folks trying to preserve hobo history and culture.

People sometimes confuse hoboes with other, less wholesome people: Hoboes are not tramps. Tramps travel, either by walking or by hitchhiking and may or may not work for what they receive. Hoboes are not bums. Bums rarely work, they would rather receive a handout.

Further information about hoboes and hobo history can be found in most public libraries; a good book on the subject is "Tales Of The Iron Road" by "Steamtrain" Maury Graham."

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I've recently read an autobiography of a hobo named Jim Tully. He refers to himself as being a hobo/ tramp.

I Frog, King of Hobos 97, am a hobo/tramp--not a bum. Yes, I do as I do to survive, but not by means of a luxurious income and/or education. I'm proud of what I do without disgracing the hobo community as they choose to know themselves. It has often been told to me by people (who are wannabe influentials) that I am a disgrace in my means of survival, because I associate with folks who are different and who are not mainstream hoboes (and who are looked upon as total disgraces by mainstream society). I have been called an FTRA member by these "influentials" but I have never (and will never) claim to be, though many are dear friends!

We must each look in our back yards and look for our own bad apples before we begin judging others!

I will never be political in the plight of those wishing to continue to dictate what is and is NOT a hobo."

Here is an entry I made in my journal several years ago relating to Hobo authenticity.

It has always been a wonder to me how much Hobos' love trains. After all, does a cowboy love his horse, does a swagman love his walking stick, does a vagabond love his shoes or a hitchhiker his thumb?

The point is that measuring roadworthiness on tangible things like miles, diesel fuel ridden, technical rail know how and crew changes is nothing more than a chest beating exercise.

I measure road-worthiness by how self-reliant and free we are between our own ears. On whether we have discovered a "drift" in time and place that suspends the hold our ‘ought tos’ have on our will. Riding freight trains doesn't guarantee that one has found inner peace. It does, however offer the opportunity to free our minds from the committee of chaotic voices that scatter our inner peace. Some of us are capable of totally shedding responsibility for a time…to walk to the edge of a cliff…and purposely choose to live.

Freedom is about making choices. Living in civilizations rut, our minds stuck on autopilot…routines followed rather than choices made…makes us a prisoner in the freest country on Earth. But being on the road...living spontaneously...confronting a myriad of incidences everyday, random events poping up so quickly we must read the situation, concoct a story and deliver it in the same moment is living fully and creatively where one cannot count on routine to survive. Having the audacity to live reckless and free in order to live a life in techno-color brilliance! And to do so while drifting across the Dakota’s in the dark of night to witness the firefly’s dance above the sleeping sunflower fields."